the dearly discarded
by Trylan Aire
Summary: /AU set in the Avatar world version of the world in World War II. As a nurse for the military, Korra is sure she's seen everything there it to see of the war and the damage it has caused, until a severely injured soldier finds his way into her hospital. She suddenly finds herself way over her head in this world filled with deception and danger./


_/The Dearly Discarded/_

_AU _

_makorra_

_Korra is a nurse during the second World War, and Mako is an injured soldier. _

**_.._**

_I'm sorry, but no gun can frighten me and no word can hurt me. No wave can knock me over and no rain can slow me. No night can tire me and no fire can burn me._  
_Because I have found the strength to do the things I believe in, and the will to stop doing the things I don't believe in._  
_So I have discovered what it means, to be at peace._  
_And you, my friend, will never find a big enough gun._

_-I wrote this for you by iain thomas_

...

* * *

He vaguely remembered stumbling to his feet and running- even after the dirt sprayed around him and the fires were roaring. His comrades were dead- wasted and crumpled beside him. He remembers he had been spared from the full brunt of the explosions, and he felt his fellow soldiers crumble beside him, their bodies forced back. They did not get up, he didn't need to look back to know they never would. So he kept running, his gun held tight in trembling hands. He ran blindly, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. His vision blurred, his ankle was enflamed and aching- but he moved forward, pushing and weaving through the wide expanse of grass. The enemy was no where to be seen- and neither were his friends. Gone, he recalled, all dead miles behind him. His teeth grit and he put his mind elsewhere. He had a girl back home, or he _did- _before this war. She was beautiful, and he had loved her. She wrote to him monthly, and he looked forward to those letters. Then he learned through his brother's writings that she had married a General in his absence. No matter, he didn't expect he would be alive long enough to mourn over lost love. His hand clutched at his breast pocket, and he tore the photograph from it. His brother an that girl, caught and stilled in black and white, grinned back at him. He could almost see the green in his eyes, even through the colorless image. Bolin was safe- Bolin was home. And that was all that mattered. The money Mako earned through the military returned to his brother in the States. Mako vaguely wondered how much his brother would get once the death certificate was signed. His attention turned to the thicket of trees ahead of him, and he ducked behind the first that offered the most cover.  
His legs ached, and his chest heaved, but he tipped his head back against the scarred trunk. He slid down, ducking as he reloaded the weapon in his hands. This was it, he thought. The shrill whistling of dropping bombs sealed his fate. He hadn't even had the chance to open his eyes before the force of the explosion knocked him hard against the tree. The air was putrid and hot with smoke, and the sulfur smell of gunpowder filled his lungs. His throat closed and he stumbled through the dark, hands searching for his weapon. His head ached- and he continued to repeat his brother's name as the corners darkened and faded to black.

* * *

She exhaled loudly, scrubbing the grime from her hands. Her brows were pulled tight together, and he head was absolutely killing her. Her assistant turned to face her, his face pale and slack. She nodded to him, wordlessly dismissing the shellshocked men. This was what happened, she thought, when unexperienced men came to War. They were sending her men fresh from their prestigious schools out in the states- men who had never had blood stain their pretty coats, or had never seen a soldier lay motionless on the gurney. She rolled her aching shoulders back, and dried her hands on the fresh towel that lay on the table beside her. The soldier she had just finished with had been the victim of an explosion, fresh from the battlefield. She had been warned more were coming, and she could only imagine the gore she was in for.  
An older nurse that Korra had known for some time passed by.  
"We're in for another sleepless night. Have you seen the poor man they just brought in? Had a bomb dropped right on his head- he's just a kid, too. Not much older than you, I think." Kya sighed, rubbing her temples. Korra nodded.

"Do they need me?" Korra asked, her voice rasping from the lack of use. Her patients were never typically conversational when they came to her. Kya laughed, running a hand through her greying hair. The older woman nodded as she spoke, "Of course they do. I'm off to take care of those poor men from the Naval explosion. Brothers, I think, from the look of them."

Korra nodded. She brought a hand to touch her hair. It was in need of a good wash. Not that there was any time for that, not lately. This War had brought thousands of casualties, and left hundreds injured. She hardly slept nowadays, and when she did it was in short resting periods when she slumped over her station, fashioning pillows out of the mountains of paper work that was scattered everywhere. It seemed like tonight, she would go on sleepless. She hurried through the compound, weaving through the other Nurses rushing on to their patient's rooms.

"What's the word on the new kid?" she asked a woman seated at the front desk. She had four cellphones on each side of the desk, and was currently speaking into two. Her eyes flicked up to the Nurse in front of her, and she tipped the receivers down to her chin.  
"Here's the file. He's in bad shape, Korra, I saw them bring him in. I'm not sure he'll make the night."  
Korra nodded and mumbled beneath her breathe as she flicked through the sparse amount of pages the file offered her, "That makes two of us."

The man is naked beneath the thin sheet when she enters the room, and this would have never bothered her if every inch of his skin had not been covered in oozing, sickly looking burns. She moves to his bed side, and her eyes follow the enflamed, angry burns that decorate his entire body. She can tell by his face that he had been handsome once. Fair skin, oddly shaped eyebrows, but high cheekbones smeared with black soot and shallow cuts, most likely delivered from shrapnel. Her lips press firm together and she scribbles notes in the corners of his paperwork. His breathing is shallow, and she would have never guessed he was alive if it had not been for the ragged, choking breathes he took as he attempted to inhale. She read in his files that his airways had been cleared, but he continued to show signs of labored breathing. He had inhaled so much smoke and had been found laying face up surrounded by scorched trees, and they were unsure how long he had been laying there. His age was not known, neither was his name. His face had been spared from the explosion, and she suspected this was due to the helmet and additional headgear he wore. He had raw, bloody marks from where the helmet had clipped beneath his chin and across his cheeks. His wounds had been cleansed, along with the burns, and it was her task to dress the wounds.

She turned to the supply cabinets, and cut the gauze carefully into sections. Her hands were careful as she lifted his arms, though his breathe would quicken at her touch. Sedatives had been administered, and he was currently being supplied with fluids to replace what had been lost after the injuries. She wrapped carefully, her fingers grazing gently over his ruined skin. Such a shame. This war had ruined such a beautiful boy. Kya had been right, this man could not be much older than she.

She wondered why he had been alone, then sifted through the pages in his file. He was found far ahead of where other bodies had been recovered. Those others had not been as fortunate as he had. _If this was what was considered fortunate_, she thought, as the man's skin quivered beneath her practiced, fleeting touches. She rested at his side, just watching him breathe, looking like a mummy of sorts. Her lips quirk up. She wondered what his name was. The belongings that had been recovered form the site lay at his bedside. There had been a picture, and an old, patched and worn scarlet material folded tight beneath the layers of bullet proof vests and heavy uniform. The picture depicted two people, a boy who seemed to be her age, and a beautiful, elegant girl with neat pin curls and impeccably applied lipstick. They were smiling, each looking so joyful. The girl's eyes were crinkled at the corners, and the boy had two dimples indented in either cheek. This must be his girl, she realized, and a friend- or brother. She suddenly felt like she was intruding. She rested the photograph face up, and her hand moved to the cloth. It was an old scarf, worn and singed at the edges. It was obviously old, though it's brilliant color had not faded in it's age. She thought for a moment, and rested the scarf beside his pillow, and placed the photograph upright on the cloth.

She stood and flattened out her clothing. She cleared her throat, and scratched out on the time log that was stapled against the wall. She passed Kya on her way out, and said without looking at the woman, "I'm heading back to the dorms. I need a shower, and a few hours sleep. I'll be back before midnight. Don't let anyone else handle him, okay?"

Kya nodded. "Got it. Get some sleep, Korra. He'll be here when you get back."

* * *

Korra did not have a home. Not since she had become a nurse for the Military. And even before- she had been moving through the world her entire life, never settling in one place for too long. Her Parents had liked that life style more, and Korra had lived a rich, full childhood. She was schooled through her Parents, and the people she met, and what she experienced. The World had taught her more than any schoolhouse could, and she was grateful for the life her Parents had given her.

When she turned eighteen, she left them. She continued on the life they had taught her, travelling and exploring the world. It was later that year that she found a nursing school in Greenland, and was taught there for some years. She met Katara, a brilliant woman who had been a healer since she was a teenager. There, she also met Kya, Katara's equally gifted daughter. They studied together, though Kya was much more experienced due to her years of practice and Katara's tutelage. Korra was happy in this place, and she expected to become a Healer right alongside her friends.

Then the War came, and help was needed. She and Kya agreed, one dark, cold night huddled around the radio, that they would join the cause and become nurses for the War. And they had, together. Kya had been transferred to France, for some time, and Korra had spent some time in Belgium. She had been in Belgium when it had been attacked, and she had remained until the day after it surrendered. After that, she and the other nurses were settled in Britain, where they were stationed now.

She lived with other nurses, in bunkers on military compounds, where it was declared safe. She was within a five minute car ride to the Hospital, and she preferred to be close to it. The Hospital was her real home. That was where she spent the majority of her time. She hardly ever visited the place the other nurses called home, and when she did venture into the quarter it was for a fleeting amount of time.

She leaned her forehead against the cool, icy window of the bus, and eyelids drooping closed. The braking roused her and she shouldered her bag and stepped off the bus. That was her means of travel, she had never been a very safe driver. Korra yawned as she sifted through her bag, and retrieved the keys from it. It took her a few minutes to open the door, and she was greeted by several other women who were all gathered in the kitchen, cups of coffee and tea in their hands. They were all as tired as she, and she smiled in greeting. Pema, a women who had otherwise been known as the House Mother, offered Korra a mug, to which she politely declined. Women like Pema made Korra wonder if this cause was worth it. Pema had a family where she came from, three children and a newborn, and a husband, and here she was- in the middle of a War. And even here, the woman had become the Mother figure to them all, though she was not the eldest. She had an intimate warmth about her, something familiar and kind, that reminded them all of their own Mothers. The women here were risking their lives as well, Korra knew. Unlike the others, however, Korra had little to lose. Her Parents knew nothing of what she was doing, they were safe in the States. When she wrote to them, she wrote about her travels, lying blatantly through the letters. They would never understand why she was doing this. Korra hardly understood.

She settled into her bed, drawing the covers tight over her form. Her alarm clock was settled at the bedside, ready to wake her in just four hours. Her eyes closed, and all she saw was a soldier's prone form, wrapped in bandages and fitfully sleeping in the Hospital. She wondered where he had come from, why he had come into this war. Who had those people been in his pictures? Her brows pinched together and she tugged the covers higher over her cheeks. Whoever they were, she was sure they were expecting their soldier to return home to them. And Korra would make sure he did.

* * *

_-trylan aire_


End file.
